Holiday Anticipation, A Mythea Short
by Maejones
Summary: Mycroft and Anthea wrapping up work before the Christmas Holidays. A Mythea fic. I don't own these characters.


Anthea studied her boss from the doorway of his office as he perused an intelligence report on his desk. Mycroft rubbed a finger against his temple and tapped his pen absentmindedly against the document; two signs he was bothered by something contained within the missive. She chewed her lip as a wrinkle appeared on his forehead. She wished she could ease his burden, especially considering it was the Friday before Christmas.

Still though, instead of interrupting him, she took this rare opportunity to observe his elegant mannerisms. His movements were so fluid and deliberate. She felt heat creep up the back of her neck at the thought of what his fingers could do were they better employed.

"What would you like, Anthea?" He asked unexpectedly, not bothering to raise his head as he scanned another line of text.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Then her face flushed with embarrassment. She hoped he hadn't just discerned her thoughts. Nothing seemed to escape this man!

"Ahem, sorry, boss. I-ah- I just wanted to know if you needed anything else before I left."

His blue eyes flicked up and captured her gaze. Her breath died in her chest. She felt as if he dissected her soul when he looked at her that way.

"You are leaving me already?"

She shrugged and looked down a moment. She felt a bit guilty for leaving him there all alone but at the same time, anxious to get it over and done with. This holiday routine had become all too wretchedly familiar. She would always wait until the last possible moment, until any shred of hope she had that this, this would be the year that something might happen between them. She held back a kind of sad, frenetic bubble of laughter in her throat. Tears stung her eyes as she realized how absurd and desperate her fantasies had become. Mycroft Holmes had reduced her to a pining spinster out of some regency romance novel.

She cleared her throat. She didn't feel much like a heroine, however.

"Yes, it's past six, boss. I thought I might pop by the shops before I head home."

"Mm," he muttered, then continued to hiss something under his breath as he looked back down at his report.

She stepped forward. "Excuse me?"

Mycroft huffed, threw down his pen and stood up stiffly. As if catching himself, he paused to smooth his hands over his vest and tug at his cuffs. Then he lifted his chin as he stared down over his nose at her with a constricted gaze.

"Why do you insist on calling me boss?"

Anthea blinked a couple of times. "Erm, because you are my superior . . ."

Her face warmed. Truth be told, she very much liked the idea of being his to command. So in a way, referring to him as "boss" was guilty pleasure she indulged herself in. With the crook of a brow, he retrieved something from his desk. He stuffed it into the inside pocket of his blazer so quickly, all she saw was a flash of white. Then he walked slowly around the desk towards her, his gaze intense and analytical. She stood pat, hoping he could not deduce her innermost desires, and held her breath.

"Have we not moved past the formalities by now, Anthea?" Mycroft murmured as he settled down again on the desk next to her, his knee brushing her skirt.

She tucked in her bottom lip. Her eyes felt saucer-sized in her skull. This was . . . something, certainly, and quite different behavior for her employer.

"I-I suppose," she said softly. "Ah, . . . but what would you have me call you?"

"How about Mycroft?" His eyes narrowed as they flitted over her face. "Yes, this is what I desire."

Oh, Lord. What was he on about? She wanted to fan her face. If she didn't know better, she might start thinking he flirted.

"Um, o-okay, boss . . . I mean, I can do that . . . Mycroft," she returned.

Later, she would say she must have suffered a bout of temporary insanity because she was gripped by the urge to be affectionate. Before she even knew what she had done, she moved forward to kiss him on the cheek. His head jerked up in surprise which resulted in her planting the kiss right at the corner of his mouth. Once there, madness ruled. Instead of pulling away immediately, she lingered to savor the feel of his warm skin beneath her lips. As soon as she realized she had crossed a major line and actually begun to obliterate it, she started to panic. Her mind raced as she tried to think of an explanation to give him. Unexpectedly, she felt the press of a hand into her lower back. What followed was him swallowing her gasp of surprise as he moved his head and covered her mouth with his.

The shock of his kiss made her toes squeeze together in her shoes. A legion of bats masquerading as butterflies roiled in her tummy. His embrace was quite thrilling. There was more hunger and less control than she had envisioned in the way his lips fed from hers ardently. Her hands crept to his shoulders and around his neck to play with the soft bristle of hair at his nape. He made a gruff kind of sound in his throat and drew her closer to him so that she was between his legs. His fingers tensed and curled into her back and then he was really kissing her, hard and urgently. A few glorious moments later, he lifted his head. The sound of his pants as he attempted to control his breathing caused ripples to flush through her abdomen.

"F-Forgive me," he murmured. "I should not have taken that liberty."

Anthea frowned. She would be damned if this was going to be a one-off experience. She didn't reply, just fell forwards on his face again to press her lips to his greedily. He groaned and returned her kiss with even more passion. They snogged like that until she had every one of his vest buttons apart and her hands buried under his blazer. For his part, Mycroft untucked her shirt so he could slide his hands over her bare flesh and up her spine. Several of his fingers splayed down the small of her back and under the waistband of her skirt.

"Hu-uh," she breathed when one of his fingers rubbed across the lace of her underwear. "Lord, you undo me, Mr. Holmes."

His eyes flicked down to her disheveled state and his brows drew together. He clucked his tongue.

"Yes, I certainly have you most of the way undone, don't I?"

Anthea snorted a laugh. Mycroft flushed pink.

"Believe it or not," he said gruffly. "This is not what I intended to do before you departed."

He fiddled with her collar before stroking a finger along the notch at the base of her throat. She swallowed.

"What did you intend?"

He looked back up at her. "I have something to give you."

She licked her lips. "I certainly hope so."

The pink in his cheeks deepened to crimson. He reached into his blazer and pulled a small box from his pocket. He flicked it open to reveal a plain, gold ring. Anthea's eyes felt as if they popped from her sockets.

"Erm, this isn't what it looks like. Ahem, well, it is but it's not what you might think," he stammered. "Blast! It's for your protection."

He removed the ring from the box and fumbled it onto her right hand. She raised a brow.

"Protection? I don't understand-"

"It's a location transmitter," he explained in a low tone. "It is matched to the one I wear. If you ever find yourself in danger and require assistance, you need only stroke your finger around the circumference of it two times and I will be alerted via my ring."

He demonstrated the action. The ring pulsed several times with a vibration similar to that of a cellphone on her finger. She stared down at it in bewilderment.

"I-I don't know what to say," she whispered.

In fact, her throat constricted. Her heart ached in her chest. Mycroft dropped his gaze for a tick.

"You don't have to say anything. It's purely for practical purposes."

Her hand trembled as she fought to contain her emotions. "B-But this is rather extravagant. Why would you go to so much trouble?"

He frowned. "I worry about you . . . constantly."

Anthea's lip twitched up. "Aw, honey!"

He looked at her from under his brow. "Don't make fun."

She reached up and laid her hand wearing the ring alongside his jaw. "Mm, sorry. Though, you are sounding rather sentimental. That's not my Mycroft."

He wrinkled his nose. "Hmph, yes. Must be the holidays or something."

She nodded. A spark of hope made her heart thump. "Speaking of which, erm, well, I was wondering if you have plans. I mean, I suppose you are going to see your parents?"

"No," he shuddered. "Good God, no. No, I . . . I would very much like to spend them gathering intelligence . . . on you, that is."

A smile spread across Anthea's face. "You understand that would most likely be an undercover operation?"

Mycroft pursed his lips as he tried not to smile. "Sounds dreadful. Filled with noise, I imagine."

She twitched her brows. She leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on his lips.

"Only if you're doing it correctly."


End file.
